Memoirs Of A Pilot
by MetalWolfMelody
Summary: The BAU has been to every state in the country, most famous cities in the nation, and smaller towns that most couldn't place on a map. Some of the best discoveries that they make are done from the seat of an airplane. But the BAU jet doesn't fly itself; the weathered pilot sees more of the BAU than most, and in a way, he's a part of their family. A collection of one-shots.
1. Chapter 1

**I usually include my authors notes at the bottom of a chapter, but I thought it would be best I introduce this story.**

 **This will be a collection of one-shots, but this first chapter serves as an introduction to the character that I will be using to look at the team and their stories. The chapters after this one will be much more team-centric, but I thought it best to introduce this character first. If you would prefer to skip this chapter, feel free. The setting and season will change by chapter, and I will be sure to inform you of which episode and/or season that the one-shot is set in. For this chapter, it is set in Season 4. I hope that you enjoy.**

 **-0-0-0-0-**

"That's it! Just tighten up that elbow just a little bit. There you go. Are you ready?" Hunter Langdon asked his son, who was cautiously adjusting his stance, staring at his father's hand. Langdon had a white baseball clutched between his fingers, his worn hands running over the textured stitching until his son nodded. At that point he wound up and launched the ball forward, watching closely as Neal, his oldest son, swung the bat in an ark, narrowly missing the pitch. Without a moment of hesitation, he smiled, and reached for another ball, while calling out a word of praise.

"Good form, just remember, keep your eyes on the ball," he reminded, to which the thirteen year old rolled his eyes. The true response came in his actions, taking the bat back up and digging his back foot into the ground with a twist of his sole.

"Thanks, coach- I mean, dad," he muttered with a sarcastic drag in his tone. Langdon merely rolled his eyes as well, coupled with an exaggerated sigh, mocking his son for a few brief moments before cracking a smile and holding the ball up at eye level.

"You better be ready for this next pitch. Watch that elbow," he reminded once more, and pulled his arm back in preparation the second he saw Neal hold his elbow a bit closer to his body. Just as he was about to twist his body back to pitch, he felt his phone vibrating from the holster on his hip, and nearly faltered. It was almost as though he could feel the frown bite into his face, but he finished the pitch, watching the ball fly towards his son before he reached down and grabbed the phone on the third ring.

"Langdon," he answered shortly, casting an eye to his son, who had once again swung and met nothing but empty air. His son was already pulling the bat back up to bear when he noticed his father on the phone, and Langdon almost winced when he saw the boy's shoulders sag. He would have loved to reach out in that moment and provide some sort of comfort, but he had to focus on the woman's voice speaking into his ear for the moment.

"Good morning, Hunter," the familiar voice chirped cheerfully, her sunshine practically shining through the phone. On a normal day, the sound of Penelope Garcia's voice would be enough to at least crack a smile across his face, but Langdon had been promised at least this one weekend home. With the BAU, however, things were never so cut and dry.

"Good morning to you too, Ms. Garcia," he forced, trying to at least partially mimic her cheerfulness. At this name, his son deflated even further; the boy was more a young man than anything, and he had come well accustomed to the phone calls that stole his father away for days at a time. Turning so that he didn't have to face the shame of his son's crestfallen face, Langdon listened in for the details of the work he knew was soon to come.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's supposed to be your weekend off," Garcia murmured with a tone of sympathy, pausing only slightly, as though to mourn his lost time off. Within seconds she was back in control, the usual commanding and authoritative tone, all business. "As I'm sure you figured out, they have another case today. This time it's all the way out in Phoenix, but from what they can tell, this should only take a few days. Hotch is hoping for takeoff in about two hours."

"She'll be ready, as always," Langdon responded somberly, referencing the jet that he would fly the team out in. "And I'll call Delphinus to let him know." At the mention of his copilot, Garcia was silent for only a moment, her fingers tapping across her keyboard for a few seconds before her voice came again.

"Thanks again, Hunter. Have a good rest of your day, and a safe flight. And please, call me Penelope," she pleaded, stretching out the ongoing joke between the two. With his usual grin masked by the solely verbal connection, Langdon responded, feeling his lips tug upwards into a small smile.

"Thank you, and have a wonderful rest of your day as well, Ms. Garcia," he finished, taking the phone from his ear and hanging up. As soon as the line was dead, any traces of a smile were gone as he turned to face Neal, who had already dropped his bat to the ground, kicking the toe of his shoe into the grass.

"Hold on, let me guess; you have to go to work?" Langdon's son quipped bitterly, looking up at his father with an acidic glare. While the look bit right down into the very depths of his heart, Langdon knew better than to show his son how much the cruel words struck him. Giving the only halfhearted smile that he could muster, Langdon picked up his glove from the ground and gestured to the few balls that had rolled across the lawn with an open palm.

"You got it, kid. Make sure to pick those up before you head in. I'm leaving in ten minutes, and I'll be down to say goodbye to you and Cassie in just a few," he promised, sliding his phone back into place on his hip and hugging the glove to his chest, trying to put on a positive face for his son. It was clear that the teen was having none of it, and his eldest child only turned away from him and trudged across the lawn, dragging his feet as he hunted down the balls that he hadn't hit.

Feeling his lips purse together, Langdon turned back towards the house, running the list of items in his go-bag through his mind. He would check the forecast for Phoenix before hitting the road, possibly tossing an extra hat in his bag or a bottle of sunscreen before he went, or exchanging a pair of jeans for a pair of shorts. With the future racing in his mind, Langdon entered his home and closed the door behind him, just to be halted in place by his youngest child running up to him in a flurry of activity.

"Dad! Look what I made!" The younger girl cried out, holding up a measly scrap of paisley fabric with stuffing spilling from sloppy seams. It took all of Langdon's effort to keep his eyebrows from knitting together in confusion, and rather than grimace, he smiled, leaning down to admire the piece.

"Wow, that's beautiful!" He exclaimed, feeling his heart pick up as Cassie smiled, pulling the stuffed creature close to her chest. Sewing had been the subject of her interests recently, and her ten year old hands still had some difficulty maneuvering a needle with any true skill. But to see the passion ignited in her eyes was more than enough for the father, knowing that the poor girl's excitement would fall the moment he let her know he was leaving. Fortunately, he was spared from having to tell her at the moment, for she turned on her heels and darted back towards the living room, crying out as she went.

"I still have to sew on his eyes! But this is the best kitten I've made so far!" Her voice faded as she went, and Langdon could only shake his head at the enthusiasm.

 _Alright, so it's a cat. I'll have to remember that_. He made the mental note, stashing it away if she were to try and show him her handiwork once more. Trotting up the stairs, he made his way to the master bedroom, and walked into the closet without a moment of hesitation. The small black duffel bag laid at the bottom of his side of the closet, stuffed with clothes and toiletries, ready to pick up and go within five minutes. As he pulled the bag out, he grabbed his phone back from his hip, and dialed the number of his copilot. His partner picked up after only two rings, the canned voice sounding cheerful.

"Hey Hunter, what's good?" The younger man asked this in a relaxed tone of voice, to which Langdon sighed deeply.

"And a good morning to you too, Delphinus."

"Aw man," the copilot muttered, his voice automatically dipping in what Langdon could only identify as disappointment. It was clear that Delphinus had discovered the purpose of the call in less than a sentence. "Really? It's Saturday. They promised us today off. They actually promised us the whole weekend off. We better be getting paid extra for this." Sympathetic to the emotional response, Langdon pressed the phone to his ear with his shoulder, and unzipped the bag, checking that everything had been restocked from his last trip.

"I know," he responded evenly, content with the items in the bag as he glanced over them. "But we have to be ready for takeoff in about two hours. You know the drill, be there in thirty. We have to fuel up and restock the pantry. Cleaning staff went through after last run, so we should be ready to go in no time. I'll see you there," Langdon finished curtly, keeping it as businesslike as possible to discourage Delphinus from taking any shortcuts on the way to the office. A crackly sigh came over the phone, but it was clear that his coworker had relented to the reality of the situation. It wasn't as though this was their first sudden call away from home, but the younger man was always a bit frustrated.

"Alright, alright. I'll be there. Seeya soon." With that, the line went dead, and Langdon let the phone drop on the bed. At the same time, he found himself satisfied with the stock in the bag, and draped the straps over his shoulder. With a quick check at the clock, Langdon realized bitterly that he only had another seven minutes to say goodbye to his children, and break the news to his wife.

Moving down the stairs, he had to dodge Cassie again as she darted towards the kitchen, the same wad of fabric clutched in her fingers. Her whole body was just a blur as she went by, so Langdon pressed on, following to the kitchen, where he knew his wife would be preparing a large lunch for the family. By the smell of it, the classic scents of grilled cheese and tomato soup were threatening to lift him to ecstasy. As always, a flash of sorrow filled him as he remembered that he wouldn't be here to spend the afternoon with his family, and didn't know quite when he would be returning.

In light of this, he put on a brave face, the same narrow smile he had pushed to near perfection when it came to breaking bad news. Dropping the bag to the floor so he could at least see a single expression of love that wasn't tainted with disappointment, he called out to his wife.

"Hello, beautiful."

His smile broke even wider as she turned, the dark brown curls of her hair flying up in the air as she turned, her earthy eyes sparkling with a joy that no facial expression could ever truly portray. She turned her attention away from the skillet that sat on the stove top, where a grilled cheese sandwich was sizzling in a pool of butter, just how Langdon liked it. Her gait was cheerful as she made her way up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he leaned in for a kiss. In that moment, all he could do was savor the sensation of her lips against his, the tender softness of rose petals against his skin, sending sparks of heat radiating through his body.

Breaking their lips apart, Langdon was able to cherish the warmth on Diana's face, basking in her brilliant beauty. It took a few moments for him to gather the words, not wanting to fracture the moment with his bad news. But they came, spilling easily and naturally, rehearsed, just as he had said a hundred times before.

"Listen, Diana, I just got a call, and the team has a case out in Phoenix. It's urgent. I need to leave now. I'm really, really sorry," he started, feeling the warmth turning to ice as she pulled away, all of that joy slipping out of her visage like sand through outstretched fingers. Unfortunately, it was an expression he was all too accustomed to seeing, and it didn't quite sting his heart like it used to, but it still hurt something terrible.

"I understand, Hunter, it's alright. I just thought we'd finally have a few days with just the family. No work, no caseload, no contracts, nothing. You promised." Those last words were so broken, it was like shards of glass falling on Langdon's ear. Taking a deep breath, he nodded, acknowledging his faults, trying to cushion the delivery ever so slightly.

"I know, that's what I thought, I really, honestly thought I would have this whole weekend just to us. Just our family. But some families out in Arizona need the team. Delphinus is already on his way in. This should be a short one. They'll have to call in one of the reserve pilots next week though, because I'll take it off, vacation time, just for us. We deserve it." He promised this with forced energy, glad to see Diana's shoulders relax at this promise. She pursed her lips, turning back to the stove where the grilled cheese was sitting, and grabbed a piece of tinfoil on the way.

Within thirty seconds, Langdon felt his wife pressing the wrapped sandwich against his chest, and her lips pressing against his cheek.

"Just go do what you do best, hun. Be safe, alright? Call me before you take off, and call me when you get there. And tell Delphinus hi for me, and tell him the kids miss seeing him come around. I love you," she finished with a whisper, and Langdon leaned down and pushed his lips against hers. It would be days before he felt the sensation again, and it was a gesture that he always hungered for.

Breaking away for the last time, he went and grabbed his bag from the floor, pulling it onto his shoulders. A few seconds later, the car keys were in his hands, and he was headed out the door, ready to head to Quantico.

 **-0-0-0-0-0-**

Standing at the entrance to the plane, Langdon put on his business smile, straightening his shirt as SSA Aaron Hotchner climbed the steep flight of stairs into the BAU jet. The dark-haired man was always the first aboard, and would always take a few minutes out of his day to speak to Langdon, something the man was always grateful for. More than that, the Unit Chief usually made the effort to bring both pilot and copilot a small gift, one that was always well-appreciated.

Today was no exception. As the agent climbed on board, Langdon welcomed him with a large smile, and the usual greeting that the two shared, just as ritual as his phone calls with Penelope Garcia.

"Good morning, Agent Hotchner. Today we will be flying a nonstop flight to Phoenix, Arizona, landing at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport." Although Langdon knew that the agent was already well informed on the flight, it was always best to try and make the man crack a smile. Today it worked, and the agent's lips pulled slightly upwards as he held out the small cardboard carrier. In the carrier were two medium cups of coffee, still steaming warm, the usual offering that was made to Langdon and his copilot.

"Please, call me Hotch." That was the only response that Langdon ever got, and it was what he was satisfied with. It was tempting, if nothing else, to cave in and refer to the strong agent in a much more informal manner. But his entire career and childhood had been built on a strong foundation of respect, and even as an adult, he always insisted on the formalities. The entire team had practically bullied him by this point, some even begging him to call them by their first names. Langdon never wavered in his habits, and only cast Hotch a brief smile in response.

"Thank you for the coffee. Delphinus would thank you, but he's locked himself in the cockpit. He insists the cleaning staff did something with his seat, and he won't stop until he's fixed it. How's your boy, by the way?" Langdon asked this with genuine interest. Both men were nearly the same age, but Jack was considerably younger than Langdon's own children. After so many years of flying with one another, there wasn't much they didn't know about one another's families, especially as the senior agent was always the first on the jet.

"Jack's just fine," Hotch replied, a rare warmth creeping into his voice. "He's told me that he wants to be a mathematician when he grows up. There's something about acing a math test that just gets him so excited," Hotch explained passionately, and Langdon felt pride rise up in his chest. His own boy, Neal, was the same way; unrequited passion when he slipped into a niche of talent.

"That's wonderful to hear," he expressed to the agent, but then sobered as he looked down at the briefcase clutched in Hotch's hand, beside the black duffel bag that held nearly the same contents as his own go-bag. Swallowing, he stared back up into Hotch's eyes, and they were stone cold once more.

"This is a bad one," the man said, sparing any elaboration. Langdon heard enough gruesome things when he went back to check on his passengers, and he never asked to hear any more from the team members. The nature of his job was to be a pilot, and nothing more. As a contract pilot for the FBI, he did have security clearances, but it was a matter of both needing and wanting to know. He could hear all he ever wanted to about the murders from the local news stations in the hotels that he stayed at; he had no cares for the psychology behind why one man would slaughter families for his own pleasure.

When Hotch gave the bad news, that the case was particularly tough, there was nothing that Langdon could do. He expected as much for this one; he wouldn't be called off of his break if it wasn't a matter of urgency. Today he nodded, the only professional response that he could ever muster to face a man as strong as the one before him.

"Well, best of luck to you. The rental vehicles are already arranged, and will be waiting once we land. Enjoy the flight, Agent Hotchner." The agent nodded respectfully back in response, and moved into the body of the jet, where the real workspace was.

Now Langdon had the chance to glance down at the coffee, relief filling him. He needed the energy boost; Diana's grilled cheese had been devoured on the way, and he was already longing for a snack. The coffee would do for now, and he could always grab snacks out of the well-stocked pantry on board during the flight. Moving back to the door that had been closed, he smacked his knuckles against the surface and called to his copilot.

"C'mon Phinny, let me in. Boss brought coffee," he enticed, knowing little else would draw the feisty young man from the fit he was in over his seat. It took a few moments, but eventually the door did open, and the twenty-four year old peeked his head through the gap, eyeing up the coffee cautiously. He had a whine in his voice when he spoke, one that Langdon heard far too often.

"They messed with my seat. It doesn't feel right. It didn't need cleaning. It's not as soft anymore. I'm not comfortable. I can't fly like this." While the miniature tantrum was annoying, Langdon hoped to silence the younger man with the coffee now so that he could welcome the rest of the team on board. Holding out the cup as a peace offering, Langdon launched into an apology for something far out of his control.

"Listen, I know they messed with it, and I'm sorry. We can talk to them about not touching your seat anymore, alright? Just take your coffee and try to get comfortable." Once more, he held out the coffee, to which Delphinus furrowed his brows, before reaching out a hand to snatch the warm cup eagerly. After raising it to his lips, he glanced at Langdon with a mischievous smile.

"Y'know, I could take your seat-"

"Not a chance," Langdon cut him off, shaking his head. Delphinus had the skills, that was for sure, and had done plenty of solo flights. But this was Langdon's turf, and while he often yielded to the eager boy in the air, there was nothing more satisfying than a smooth takeoff and landing. With a sigh, Delphinus shook out his hair, letting the long blonde locks fall into his eyes as he retreated back into the cockpit with his coffee. Once he disappeared, there weren't even the slightest hints of further argument.

Shaking his head, Langdon took a few steps back to the entrance of the jet, and watched as the young doctor climbed the stairs, his brows pinched in his usual look of concentration, one that Langdon had come to expect.

"Good morning, Doctor Reid," he greeted, to which the agent looked up, shoulders relaxing slightly at the greeting. That was another small moment of satisfaction to Langdon's job; it didn't take a profiler to see when someone was stressed, it only took a friend, or in this case, a father. There was no hiding tension or nerves from the seasoned pilot, and it was always pleasant to know that his welcome was enough to relax the agents, even for just a moment.

"Have you seen the latest model of this jet? Developed by Boeing, the revolutionary technology incorporates the latest advances in metallurgy to construct a lightweight frame that is able to withstand five times-" Reid rambled on, and Langdon listened with interest. Just as with the other team members, the doctor was just as predictable. Instead of some formal greeting, Langdon's ears were always met with some statistic on planes, flying, or the weather in the region of their destination. While the information didn't always adhere to his mind, he always had a keen interest in what Reid had to say. Usually their interactions didn't surpass the exchange of such knowledge, Langdon very rarely able to provide something new to the youngest team member. Today was one such occasion, but he made sure to at least stow away the name of the newest model so he could look into it, and maybe beg for some additional funding.

Not more than a minute after Reid had disappeared into the heart of the plane, Agents Morgan and Prentiss arrived at the steps to the jet, laughing over something or another, shoving at the bottom steps to try to beat one another up. Morgan won, as always, and gave Langdon a friendly slap on the shoulder before the pilot could muster up an adequate welcome. Prentiss, on the other hand, actually cast him a smile and greeted him.

"Good morning, Hunter. How long is our flight today?" She asked, letting Morgan rush in ahead of her, only shaking her head in defeat. Langdon smiled, calling up the estimation from the back of his mind.

"We should be there in about six hours, Agent Prentiss. The wind will be working against us today, but we should have a smooth flight." Finishing with a smile, he welcomed her in just as the familiar, yet weary face of Agent Rossi came into view. The Italian was always brief in his mannerisms, and just as Morgan had, he nodded in response to Langdon's greeting. The pilot looked down the stairs as the last member, the blonde-haired agent, made her way up the steps, juggling a phone. Langdon knew well enough by now not to bother her- she was likely on the phone with either her husband or the sitter, trying to arrange for her boys to have another night alone.

Her, Langdon let go. He would always check on them through the flight, making sure they knew the general status, and time left until destination. He would always let them know if they were approaching bad weather, or if there was nothing but smooth air ahead. He was a pilot, and he took care of the passengers, the ragtag family that the BAU had become, as well as he possibly could.

Checking that all agents were on board, Langdon checked his watch, and as always, the agents were right on time. Not a minute to spare, Langdon forced open the door to the cockpit, and settled into the seat. It conformed to his body, every single control just where it was supposed to be. Delphinus was seemingly settled in, coffee cup attached to his lips as though it were a part of him.

"Alright, Phinny, it's time for wheels up," he prompted, which forced the younger of the two men to set down his coffee cup and pull up his headphones. The two had their comfortable routine, complete with Delphinus's pet name, and would transition smoothly into the air, just like hundreds of flights before.

As always, in the back of his mind, Langdon knew that the team was already hard at work just feet away from the cockpit door, opening their files, settling down into the seats. They would stare at gruesome photographs, glance down at foreign maps, analyzing and studying up until the very minute the wheels touched ground again. There would be jostling for coffee, there would be talking, there would be patchy video calls with their tech analyst. But those were all background noise, or no noise at all. Hunter Langdon had one job; fly the plane. And while the six people behind him would profile, he would let them soar through the clouds without a second thought. They were profilers, and he was a pilot, and nothing would ever take that away from him.

 **Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed. If you have any questions, comments, critiques, or concerns, feel free to drop a review or shoot me a PM. My inbox is always open! Thank you again for reading, and have a wonderful day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Early Season 5**

"I swear, if they don't start giving us a two hours' notice each time we need to fly their damn plane, I'm going to crash it straight into the Rockies," Delphinus muttered with contempt, yanking his computer from his bag as Langdon stared on. Although the older man tried not to show it, amusement filled his form, watching his copilot angrily open the laptop and click away at the keys with furious fingers. The younger man's complaint was only somewhat valid; for all Delphinus knew, they had indeed been called in with only an hour to prepare for the flight, and get the jet ready for takeoff. It was only by Langdon's discretion that the feisty man hadn't gotten the full story behind their stunted preparation.

Langdon had received the call to come in earlier that morning, and as usual, Garcia had given him the standard two hours to prepare. But only minutes after he had hung up with the cheerful woman, his phone buzzed again. In an unusual turn of events, another member of the team seemed to be calling his personal number. While all of the BAU agents had his personal number, it was the first time in memory that his particular agent had called. The request had been brief, and it had been one that Langdon figured he had best agree to honor. When it came to the BAU, there was never any degree of predictability, and it was always favorable to relent to even the most unusual demands.

So now the plane sat on the tarmac, steps down, waiting for the first arrival nearly thirty minutes before the plane was actually scheduled to take off. It had already been fueled, and the flight mapped out with meticulous care, all in nearly record time. Delphinus was the only one to show any degree of frustration; Langdon himself had merely been curious as to what situation required their early preparation.

Leaning out the entrance to the jet, he was able to see the answer to his question far before he could actually confront it. The tall and wiry frame of the BAU's youngest agent was slowly making its way across the open space of the tarmac, moving towards the base of the stairs leading up to the jet. There was no profiling needed to see the problem that the young man was facing, or why he had requested to have the jet ready a fair amount of time earlier than usual. It appeared that the young doctor was forced to make his way on crutches, practically staggering as he attempted to walk.

From where he sat at the top of the stairs to the jet, Langdon knew already that there was no way that Reid could make it up the steep climb unaided. The young man seemed to be struggling enough with the simple act of walking on level ground, balancing his trademark messenger bag as he went shakily, each step more cautious than the last. At that moment, an image filled Langdon's mind, one of his son.

About a year prior, Neal had taken quite a nasty fall and broken his foot, forcing him to make his way on crutches for the better part of a month. Every dip in the pavement had been a valley, and every staircase had been a mountain. Obstacles rose up out of shadows, out of the streets that had been walked hundreds of times. To say that it had been trying would have been an understatement, but in a way, Langdon was able to see a similar situation reflected in that moment. Even though Reid was an FBI agent, the elite of the elite, in this moment he looked so incredibly weak and vulnerable.

That was when the pieces fell together; Langdon knew that it had to have been a matter of pride. If any of the other team members were to witness a struggle such as this, Langdon knew that Reid would have been terribly ashamed. But as an outsider, Langdon wasn't a part of the team; he was just their pilot. There wasn't any reason for him not to help, and he would have felt terrible just watching Reid's painstaking efforts any further prolonged. Leaning his upper body back into the jet, Langdon called out to his partner.

"Hey, I'll be back in a few. Don't get yourself into any trouble."

"No promises," Delphinus muttered with his usual attitude, and Langdon rolled his eyes before making his way down the stairs, jogging the last few yards to close the distance between himself and the doctor. At his arrival, Reid stopped in his tracks, staring at Langdon with a degree of caution glittering in the depths of his calculating eyes.

"Afternoon, Doctor Reid. Do you need any help?" Langdon asked this genuinely, hoping that the offer for help wouldn't offend the man. Unfortunately, his question was enough to make Reid look down at the ground, almost as though he were shirking away from the possibility he needed assistance. A moment later he spoke, the most uncertain that Langdon had ever heard him in the entirety of their interactions.

"I- I think I'll be alright. I just figured that I should get here early so that I wasn't holding up the rest of the team. It takes me an average of six-point-four seconds to make it up a step right now, and I move at about one-third my typical walking pace. I didn't want to create a delay," Reid explained, hands gripping the crutches until they were white knuckled. Cocking his head to the side, Langdon turned over his shoulder and looked back at the steps to the jet, which were steep and unwelcoming, even to someone who was able-bodied.

"Doctor, I insist. It would be a safety hazard for you to go up those stairs unassisted. I don't want to risk you falling down the stairs of my plane," Langdon insisted, nodding his heads towards the precarious obstacle. Reid's brows pinched together, and he took a hand off his crutches to adjust the strap on his messenger bag, something that Langdon could only identify as nervousness.

"Really, I'll be fine. I've been on these for a few days already, taken plenty of stairs, it's really no problem," Reid tried insisting, but Langdon knew better. With one final check that no other agents were making their way towards the plane, Langdon held out his hand, and looked down at the messenger bag. Trying to put a sense of easygoing into his inflection, he made an offer that he knew the agent would be more likely to take.

"At least let me take your bag up to your seat. That might make things a bit easier for you on the way up." As soon as the words left the pilot's mouth, Reid's grip on the bag grew even tighter, as though he were afraid to part with it. Taking another deep breath, hoping that the gesture wasn't perceived as hostile by the doctor, Langdon gave a shallow smile.

"I promise I'm not going to look into it. I just think you need both hands if you're going to make it up those stairs," Langdon urged gently, and to his satisfaction, he saw Reid's grip on the bag loosen just a bit. By the glittering determination in Reid's eyes, it was easy to see that the man was fighting a battle within himself, whether to tough it out or give in, to hold his own or to show weakness. Within another breath, Reid nodded, a nearly imperceptible gesture, and shrugged the bag over his head. It took a moment for him to balance on his good leg, trying to pull the bag completely free from his body, and when he held it out, it was clearly reluctant.

Smiling in an attempt to reaffirm his good intentions, Langdon took the bag gently, and put the strap over his own shoulder. Reid took that moment to look him up and down, giving another subtle nod, as though he approved of the image before him. A chuckle slipping loose from his lips, Langdon turned towards the steps of the jet, knowing that Reid was watching his cargo quite carefully.

From behind him, Langdon could hear the clicking of crutches against the ground, moving much slower than the typical rate of footsteps. However, he spared Reid the threat of eyes staring at him, and simply went up the steps into the plane, back into the heart of the jet. He never spent much time in the private workspace, but still knew which table it was best to set the well-worn bag on, placing it as gently as he could manage.

As soon as the bag was in its rightful place, Langdon went back to the steps, expecting to see Reid at least halfway up by then. Instead, the agent was stationed firmly at the bottom, staring up as though the staircase were endless. For the look in Reid's eyes, there was no word that Langdon could draw on as a descriptor aside from hopeless. Sympathy blossoming in his heart, he made his way back down the stairs nimbly, pausing on the penultimate step, just a bit taller than the doctor as he looked down on him.

"Are you sure that you don't need any help?" Langdon asked, watching the Adam's apple in Reid's throat bob up and down with a heavy swallow. It was as though there was no oxygen nearby, and even Langdon strained to draw a breath in anticipation, hoping that the younger agent would see some sense in the assistance. The man was a genius, after all, but from everything that Langdon had seen, an incredibly stubborn one.

"Alright," Reid whispered, pulling his crutches out from under his arms and maneuvering them in front of him. As Langdon took them, Reid adjusted his grip to the railings that lined the stairs, holding onto them warily as he balanced on his only good leg. Moving with as much urgency as his aging body could manage, Langdon bounded up the steps and placed the crutches just inside the entranceway before heading back down to where Reid balanced, lips pursed.

Langdon went all the way to the bottom step, and offered out his arm to Reid, who took it in both of his hands. Neither got the chance to even work their way up a single step before Langdon backed up, knowing that the agent's singular leg wouldn't be strong enough to carry him up with just one hand's aid. This time he bent down, twisting his body so that Reid could drape an entire arm around Langdon's broad shoulders, enough to carry most, if not all, of his weight.

Without words, Langdon pulled upwards, and Reid used his free arm to push upwards, successfully maneuvering the pair up a single step. After a short breath the two were forced to try again, Langdon heaving his weight up one of the steep steps, helping to yank Reid's form up with him. It was like this they made their way up the steps, painstakingly slow, all the way to the very top platform, right where the steps gently kissed the entranceway to the plane.

Unashamed to show his exhaustion, Langdon breathed hungrily, trying to fill his lungs after the trying experience. It seemed that Spencer was doing the same, now leaning safely on his crutches, hand grabbing at his leg while his face contorted in pain. The silence split only by the weary panting, Langdon hoped that Delphinus had his headphones in, and wouldn't open the door to see such a pitiful display.

It only took a minute for the pair to recover, and for Reid to stand up straight, running a hand through his hair. Beads of sweat had formed on the agent's forehead, but Langdon had the basic courtesy of pretending that Reid appeared perfectly fine. While he prepared to wish the agent a good day, Reid surprised him by speaking up, albeit in a soft tone of voice, drawing in a deep breath as he spoke.

"You never asked me what happened. Didn't you want to know?" The inquiry had a borderline accusatory tone, but it wasn't enough to make Langdon so much as flinch. In a way, he was prideful that he had dodged the 'all-seeing-eye' that the profilers seemed to have. But at the same time, he was sorrowful that Reid had automatically assumed there would be nothing but judgement for his injuries, or even been perceived as an inconvenience.

The team came onto the jet in all states of harm, sometimes with butterfly bandages pinching together gashes on their face, sometimes with their arm in a sling, sometimes with bruises wrapped around their necks. Langdon never asked, simply because it was not his job to know. They could suffer among one another with more dignity, so he let them be. Knowing that this was the purest truth, Langdon figured that it was best to answer with. Shrugging his shoulder in nonchalance, he spoke evenly, trying to put a positive tone to his words.

"I don't find it important. All that matters is that you can safely access this plane, and have a safe flight. You are cleared to fly, aren't you?" Langdon questioned jokingly, but once more he saw Reid's eyes dart to the floor, clearly in shame. Although his heart sank into his feet at the thought of this young man fighting to make the right decision, despite his obvious pain and difficulty, he knew that he could expect nothing less from the BAU. They were the best of the best from the FBI, and resilience was to be expected. Rather than forcing Reid to answer the rhetorical, he smiled again, this one slightly more forced.

"Well, all that matters is that you're here," he tried to comfort, but Reid's demeanor didn't change. With a nod from his head, Langdon gestured towards the interior of the jet, back where he had placed the bag, attempting to draw attention away from the matter at hand.

"I put your bag on the first table, just let me know if you need me to move it. But you might want to get settled in, we have a pretty long flight ahead of us. If you need anything for the pain, we might have some ibuprofen in the pantry, but you would know better than me. If you need anything else, just let me know," he finished gently, turning his back so that Reid wouldn't have to initiate the parting. Just as he was about to open the door to the cockpit, Reid called out gently, the noise carrying to the pilot's ears in a hushed tone.

"Thank you, Hunter. Thank you." Turning around, Langdon cast one last genuine smile.

"My pleasure, Doctor Reid." Without another word, he opened the door, and made his way into the cockpit. The rest of the team would be arriving soon, and he still had to go over the flight plan with Delphinus. As for the young genius in the back of the plane, he would be in Langdon's mind for the rest of the flight, and perhaps he would even go back to check on him during the flight. But all of that could come later; for now, he had enough work ahead of him.

 **Wow! The support on this story has already been incredible. Thank you all so much for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. I'm actually overwhelmed by all the positivity. Even more so than the positivity is the suggestion for this chapter. I wrote this whole chapter based on an idea put forward by ahowell1993, and if anyone else has something they would like to see, feel free to put it in a PM or review! Seriously, an endless world of thanks to everyone who took time out of their busy days to read this story and give me support. Have a wonderful day!**


	3. Chapter 3

With a beautiful array of clouds dancing in a sea of blue below, Langdon was settled comfortably in his seat, while Delphinus focused on the blinking displays lining the cockpit. Upon closer inspection, the younger copilot had earbuds snaking beneath his larger headphones, but the white cords were not a sight unfamiliar to Langdon's eyes. But as Langdon saw it, if there was no pressing concern, there was no reason to chastise the man for how he took his leisure in the sky.

No particular urge occupying his mind, and no immediate incoming message in his ears, Langdon flipped the headphones from his ears and let them rest around his neck. There was some comfort in knowing that it would be evening when they landed, and it would actually be a reasonable time of night that he would be getting to sleep. The flight was almost half over, and the wind was just about in their favor. But this peace and serenity was fractured by a loud degree of sound coming from beyond the closed cockpit door.

This was enough to make the seasoned pilot perk up, rotating his shoulder slightly towards the back of the plane as he strained to discern any words being said. The sounds that came from the heart of the jet usually numbered none, which was why Langdon was concerned enough to turn away from the controls to note the disturbance. Although the words were somewhat indistinguishable, their strength and urgency was not lost to Langdon's ears. Concerned for his passengers, he turned to Delphinus, and nudged the man's shoulder. Startled from his easy concentration, Delphinus flipped his own headphones down, staring at Langdon with wide eyes, obviously awaiting a command.

"Hey, you take the controls, something's going on back there. I'm going to check it out," Langdon said gently, just as a muffled screech came from the back. The harsh sound was enough to make even the laid-back Delphinus flinch, and he replied quickly, face suddenly twisted into a grimace.

"Yeah man, go check that out. I've got it. Don't worry." Giving a solemn nod in response, Langdon felt his lips purse as he pushed back his seat and got up. It took a few moments to move out of the seat and towards the door, and all the while, the sounds didn't fall to any more reasonable volumes. While he wouldn't have admitted it, his heart was speeding up; there had been no injuries on their last case, but there was one heavily pregnant woman on board, which was always a concern to Langdon.

Pushing the door open, he made his way back into the belly of the jet, looking at a scene that was far from the normal view on the way home from a case. Typically, the team was curled beneath blankets and jackets, heads resting on hands or pillows or seats. It was usually a picture of solace and peace, but today, most of the team was sitting upright, with three of the members on their feet. JJ seemed to be the center of attention, her hands up at her face, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes. Prentiss had wrapped her arms around the seemingly inconsolable woman, while Hotch stood some distance off, his brow furrowed.

The instant that Langdon walked in, his eyes wide, the crying stopped. The attention turned to him in that moment, including JJ, who sniffed lightly before wiping at her eyes again. Hotch opened his mouth to speak first, the team leader always eager to take control, but the first words to break came from Emily's mouth.

"How long until we land?" Swallowing his own confusion, Langdon looked with concern at JJ's bulging stomach, before spitting out the answer in haste.

"About four hours, is everything alright?" He made sure to pose this question as soon as possible, but it was Hotch who responded to this one, making sure to cut off the two women who seemed ensnared in emotion.

"Really, Langdon, it's nothing. They were just about to get settled into their seats," he spoke solemnly, glaring at the women with an intense stare. While it would have been enough to make Langdon flinch back, had he been on the receiving end, Emily managed to shoot back a glare of her own.

"We weren't getting settled in. JJ has needs!" The exclamation was clear, but Langdon was able to watch as Rossi rolled his eyes and leaned back comfortably into his seat, a smug expression on his face. Reid seemed to be entranced by the situation, if nothing else, while Morgan was chuckling. Swallowing his nerves again, afraid to probe a sore spot, Langdon posed another inquiry.

"If it's something urgent, please, let me know. Do we need to land the plane? I'll have Delphinus check for the nearest open airport-"

"It's really nothing," Rossi shouted from his chair over the din, the corners of his lips upturned in the slightest hints of a smile. While Hotch looked like he was ready to shout out another harsh comment, this time it was the young doctor's turn to cut in, beginning on a long-winded commentary.

"Physical hunger and cravings are actually totally separate. The main nerve connected the mind and abdomen is referred to as the Vagus Nerve, and only sends sensory connects when there is an absolute need, such as hunger. Hunger is dictated partially by grhelin, which is a hormone that-" He was cut off by Emily snarling her own harsh comment, teeth practically bared.

"You're not helping, Reid." Although the youngest member of the team had been cut short, and had been speaking quite rapidly, Langdon had caught the one word that he needed. His heart suddenly began slowly, and he had to swallow back a smile, which was difficult as he looked at the two distraught female agents.

"Cravings?" He asked this gently, to which JJ seemed to melt, and Emily looked only more exasperated. Hotch, meanwhile, seemed to grow only more frustrated. His lips drawn tight, like a disappointed father, he looked down at his team.

"Once again, I sincerely apologize. I promise they won't cause another problem," he said with a stern tone, but JJ seemed to be on the verge of tears. Eyeing her bulging stomach, Langdon was called back to the early mornings that his wife woke him, begging him for the most ridiculous foods that he could imagine. One morning it was strawberry shortcake, another morning it was teriyaki jerky, and yet another morning it was chocolate Cheerios. Every morning, no matter the time, Langdon had complied, running out to the convenience store if it had been required. The cravings of a pregnant woman were no stranger to him. This time he allowed the smile to break, and walked up to JJ, looking her in the eyes.

"What is it?" To this, her lip quivered, and she seemed to lean back into Emily, as though she were embarrassed. A few moments later the answer escaped her mouth, incredibly soft, nearly imperceptible.

"Barbeque chicken wings."

It took all of his energy to fight back a chuckle, and when he looked back to the rest of the team, they were also failing to fight back laughter. All of the members, of course, except for Hotch. The disapproval radiating from him was incredibly clear, and it was clear he was about to make another move to speak, when Emily interrupted again,

"How much trouble would it really be to land somewhere real quick, grab some food, and leave again?" While the question was innocent, Langdon could feel a headache forming. Hesitantly, he started, knowing that Hotch was begging him with his eyes not to dignify a response.

"Well, it would be a bit of trouble to deviate from the planned flight manifest, and on the flight report I'd have to report the unplanned landing with some sort of reasonable explanation-"

"But it can be done?" Emily prompted, to which Langdon shrugged, before nodding in resolute defeat. Looking to Hotch, the man closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. It was as though all heads swiveled to look at the team leader, who seemed to be utterly exhausted from the trying situation. But after a moment, it seemed his resolve was gone.

"If it won't cost us any taxpayer dollars, or more than an hour, I don't see why not."

The jet was suddenly filled with sounds of cheering and hollering, but somehow, through it all, Langdon could pick up the sounds of Hotch groaning. A smile filled Langdon's face without reservation.

"I'll go talk to Delphinus, see if we can find us an open spot to land. We shouldn't have any trouble finding a municipal airport willing to lend us some space for an hour. Besides, this is practically a medical emergency, isn't it?" He joked lightly, but JJ's eyes were filled with nothing but relief. Turning his back on the miniscule celebration, Langdon climbed back into the cockpit, shaking his head. He couldn't imagine that he was seriously about to land a plane for chicken wings.

 **-0-0-0-0-0-**

Less than two hours later they were back up in the air, most of the team resting comfortably, JJ with a large bucket of warm chicken wings nestled in her lap. Hotch, while disgruntled, had just interrupted Langdon at the first possible convenience.

"May I have a word?" The agent questioned, to which Langdon easily relented, turning the controls over to Delphinus and stepping out of the cockpit. As soon as they were drawn into the small secluded space, Langdon studied Hotch's solemn expression, looking for any flicker of emotion. Seeing none, he listened keenly to the softly spoken words, trying to discern any feelings from them.

"I truly appreciate what you did for JJ, and for the rest of the team. You always express the utmost care for us, and for that, I am always grateful. Are you positive that you'll face no disciplinary action from this small detour?" Hotch asked seriously, but Langdon couldn't help but smile, recalling the bright expression that JJ had held on her face as she clutched the food close.

"There won't be any problems, sir," Langdon assured, trying to instill some confidence in the agent who stood before him, obviously concerned. "And it wasn't a problem at all. The safety and comfort of your team is of the utmost importance to me, and to Delphinus as well. And you forget that I have a wife, and two children. I'd say that her cravings were indeed of the highest urgency."

This small joke was enough to make the typically somber man crack a smile, likely recalling his own child and wife. After a moment of silence, the smile dropped and the agent rested his hand against Langdon's shoulder.

"If there's ever anything we can do for you, please, let me know. This team owes you so much," Hotch said, eyes swimming with sincerity. While pleasure at the gratitude blossomed in his chest, Langdon knew better than to allow any hints of pride into his veins. He replied humbly, turning back towards the cockpit.

"It's my pleasure, Agent Hotchner."

 **Thank you all so much for reading! I apologize for any errors, this was written quite late, intended to be cute and fluffy. I hope it wasn't too silly, but I tried to give a little bit of a lighter read this time around. Researching cravings is actually quite interesting! But on a serious note, thank you all so much for reading. The support has been overwhelming. I appreciate each follow, favorite, and review on this story. I hope that you all enjoyed, and that you have a wonderful day!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Set in Season 3**

With nothing but the darkened indigo sky before him, Langdon hummed a steady tune beneath his breath, feeling the frame of the jet rattling slightly beneath his body. The flight had been predictable thus far, with only the standard amount of jostling, but it was clear by the recent change in conditions that turbulence would be picking up soon. Just to confirm his thought, the plane hit a patch of rough air and shook from side to side, each sensation like a tremor through the modestly sized plane. The chatter from the ground in his ears was enough to let him know that a small bout of bad weather was just ahead, and while mild enough, was prone to cause any small aircraft some discomfort.

Had it been any reasonable time of day, Langdon would have grabbed the small speaker next to his chair and spoken into it, the PA sounding clearly through the rest of the jet with his message. But there was one unforgettable reminder of their current circumstance; the heavy cloak of a pitch black night was wrapped around them like a somber veil. It was the dead of night, and after four days on a particularly trying case, it was likely that the team would be sound asleep, heads resting in the crooks of their elbows or balled up jackets, in an attempt to recover.

Of all of the team members, there was always the high likelihood that either Agent Hotch or Rossi were awake, sleepily glancing over the case file, or watching over the sleeping team members, as though they were studying them. But his intuition, almost like that of a mother, told Langdon that it was bound to be more peaceful this evening, even if turbulence caused a minor disruption. To avoid fracturing the few moments of peace the team was able to glean in the air, Langdon turned to his copilot, who had his eyes fixated on the information readouts with a clearly discernable intensity. While the younger man was prone to fits of disobedience and lapses in a serious demeanor, when the need arose, he was a weapon of intense concentration, and a skilled pilot above all else.

Nudging his partner's shoulder, Langdon gave a quick jerk of his head to show that he was about to head back into the cabin, which earned him a nearly imperceptible nod from Delphinus before he turned back to the displays. Langdon needed no further confirmation that the plane would be safe in the air, and that there was no cause for concern in the time it took him to run back and alert any souls that had the displeasure of being awake. It took him only a few moments to free himself from his seat and work his way to his feet, exiting the cockpit and moving out into the uncharacteristically dark cabin.

The dimmed lights told him enough; the entire space was typically a glaring white from the force of the custom fluorescent lighting, always active as the team poured over pages and papers and other notes. But now that the space was filled with a warm yellow light, dim enough to cast shadows around every silhouette, Langdon knew that all must be sleeping. For the sake of thoroughness, he walked a few steps further in, eyeing the awkwardly positioned bodies of the elite FBI unit with a degree of fondness.

There was one body that was rigid, upright in their seat, head lolling slightly to the side. Even in the poor lighting, Langdon could see that the pale lips were pursed tight in concentration, shoulders straight, as though he were sitting at attention. Even in sleep, the team leader was easily identifiable by his posture, and an attitude that not even sleep could make him shed. Across the small table from him was clearly the oldest man on the team, still sitting mostly upright, but his head leaned against the side of the seat, shoulders clearly relaxed as he slept on peacefully. On the small table between the two seats were two open files, but both had been abandoned in the favor of dreams.

Taking a few steps further, Langdon was able to observe the two women of the team, most clearly recognizable by the messy hairstyles that they had donned before falling asleep across from each other in the group of four seats. While it took a moment to catch JJ's trademark blonde hair in the artificial dusk, it was clear to see that she had balled herself up across the two connected seats, stuffing a jacket up against the wall and resting her head on it. Prentiss had assumed quite a similar position, feet edging out into the narrow isle that Langdon walked down. Nearly tripping over the shoes that had made their way out into the walking space, clearly belonging to the dark-haired female agent, Langdon felt another smile come over his face at the sound of their breathing, heavy and deep, practically a gentle snore.

Across from them, alone in the second grouping of solitary seats, Agent Morgan had reclined himself comfortably, head tilted back with headphones nestled around his ears. While Langdon couldn't hear the strains over the music over the continuous thunder of the plane's engines, it was easy enough to tell that the man was also in the assured clutches of sleep.

Even if all of the lights had been completely extinguished, Langdon knew that he would have been unable to mistake the form of the youngest agent on the team, his lanky form curled awkwardly on a too-small sofa. A blanket was draped over him, though it had come somewhat dislodged from around his shoulders, exposing the skin on his neck and the pattern of his shirt. There were multiple blankets and pillows on the jet at all times, special accommodations for late night flights like this one, but it seemed that the young genius was the only one to ever utilize such commodities.

Casting another look at the blanket, Langdon was tempted to pull it up and around the agent's shoulders, realizing quickly that Reid was not plunged into quite the degree of serenity that the other sleeping members had the luxury of experiencing. The agent's shoulders were trembling, and his face was twitching with rapid contortions that Langdon couldn't quite make out. It was clear that Reid's eyes were flickering back and forth rapidly beneath his eyelids, and a pale sheen of sweat was breaking out across his forehead, highlighted clearly by the warm lighting. Parted lips let out little gasps, as though Reid were laboring for breath, even in the supposedly gentle hands of sleep. The realization dawned on Langdon immediately, from the experiences he had had as a father, an unmistakable event: Reid was clutched tightly in the throes of a terrible nightmare.

As a father, Langdon's first instinct was to reach out and shake Reid's shoulder, pull him out of whatever hell he was currently experiencing. But his reflexes held back as the professional side called him to leave the man, that whatever he was suffering was none of his concern. He was the pilot, after all; he had no business in interfering in the private affairs of the people that he chartered for a living. At the same time, he had come to know them with such a degree of comfort and familiarity that the thought of leaving Reid pulled at his heartstrings terribly.

Within a few moments of painful contemplation, the two sparring sides came to rest with a clever compromise, one that Langdon nearly prided himself in thinking up. This plan included both the concern of a professional, and the discretion of a clever father with a teenage son. The small kitchenette of the jet was located just beyond the couch, a few steps beyond Reid's prone, shaking form. At the same time, one of Reid's feet was extended beyond the lip of the couch, straying out into the walkway as the shoe poked its was out from underneath the earthy green blanket. After a deep breath, Langdon walked forward a few steps, jarring his shin into Reid's foot as he pretended to pass by on the way to the coffee machine.

This sharp movement elicited the exact response that Langdon had been desperately hoping for; with a sudden gasp and a jerk, Reid's body became rigid, and he sat up directly at the waist. Eyes darting to either side as he attempted to identify some sort of threat, Reid tensed, mouth parting from such a startling awakening. Fortunately for Langdon, the younger man clearly recognized the pilot just a heartbeat later, even in the dark, and took a deep breath rather than calling out. Through the comfortable semi-silence, Langdon could hear Reid's stifled panting, and was able to watch as the doctor's shoulders heaved with the effort to contain his emotions. It was clear Reid had quickly interpreted the situation, judging by how in the next moment he pulled the offending foot in closer to his body.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Reid," Langdon apologized with a gentle bow of his head, trying to ensure his hushed tone wouldn't disturb the other agents on board. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just on my way to get some coffee," he explained, trying to relax his posture to show some sign of sincerity, hoping that the agent was too distracted to attempt and profile him. For a moment, Reid didn't reply, running a hand through his mussed hair, and trying to readjust himself to a more comfortable position beneath the tangled blanket. There was a somewhat vacant look in his eyes as the dim lights reflected into the pupils, and they were focused on a sight that was somewhat beyond Langdon, as though Reid was looking right through him. The sound of swallowing came softly before Reid replied.

"No, I'm sorry, really, I- I didn't mean to take up so much space." The muttered words were hollow, shallow, hardly ignited by the brief eye contact that Reid managed to make before taking another shaking breath and staring down into his lap. Langdon knew that he had done all that he had originally intended- waking Reid to spare him from his nightmare. But now, the fatherly instinct that possessed his heart was once again screaming that his job was far from over. Before he could consciously decide against his action, Langdon opened his mouth, allowing more words to spill out in a warm whisper.

"Really, it's my fault, Dr. Reid. Is there anything that I could do for you? We've been hitting some rough patches of air; I hope that nothing was disturbing you." With his subtle implication that he had indeed observed some disturbance, Langdon hoped that perhaps the genius would pick up on the small cue within the sentence. By the way the terrified look dissolved from Reid's eyes so rapidly, Langdon could only assume it had. More silence spanned the gap, interrupted only by a nervous cough and the shifting of fabric as Reid adjusted his body once more. When he made eye contact with Langdon, there was a degree of sadness in the typically warm depths, a lost sort of glimmer that filled Langdon with pity.

"There was," Reid paused, letting the words hang in the air, as though he couldn't finish the sentence, before whispering once more. "There was nothing, really." To hear the denial so plain, Langdon felt another smile cross his face, this one a bit strained, as he knew he would never grasp whatever pain the seasoned agent was feeling from his terrors. He knew that Reid had understood him, and that was enough; the presence of compassion could quell pain just as easily as an outright confession from the afflicted. He was not a proper counsel, and never meant to feign such. All he wanted was to portray the genuine care that he held within his heart, perhaps to ease some agony. To leave the doctor on a gentle note, Langdon once more offered some masked advice, hoping that he was reaching out a friendly hand in case Reid ever needed him again.

"Even the most frequent fliers get bothered by turbulence every once in a while," Langdon said plainly. "If it ever gets to be a bit too much, don't be afraid to tell me. I'll always be happy to see what I can do about it." This time, the message was loud and clear, and Langdon was trying to scream it with every fiber of his being _. It's okay to be hurt, even if you're too afraid to show it. I'll be here for you._

It was a message he had given his son a hundred times, when that boy was too stubborn to admit how much he was hurting, or that he was struggling. So often it came down to a matter of pride, an unwillingness to admit that one's constitution was fractured, that their endurance was wavering. This experience was not foreign to Langdon; once in his life, he too had been so stubborn, so unwilling to admit when he was suffering. It had strained him so terribly inside, and now he tried to cry out to Reid that he could speak about it, whatever darkness was plaguing him.

A surprise suddenly ignited his heart with warmth- a gentle smile made its way across Reid's face, a sign of understanding, one that Langdon could clearly recognize. It didn't take a profiler to understand a clear expression of relief. When Reid spoke, his voice was somewhat softer, as though the thought of someone caring about him was enough to lull him back to sleep.

"One ounce of dark chocolate can contain up to twelve milligrams of caffeine, whereas the average eight ounce cup of brewed coffee can contain up to one hundred and forty five milligrams of caffeine. With the average chocolate bar weighing in at one and a half ounces, rather than consuming your cup of coffee, you could consume approximately eight and a half chocolate bars instead," Reid offered, pulling the blanket in close around his body. Langdon grinned, genuine disbelief over the ridiculous slew of facts that he had just been offered. He could feel the crow's feet wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he returned a gentle response, watching the agent lay back down on the couch, curling his body in a bit more protectively.

"I think I'll stick with my cup of coffee, Dr. Reid. We have about three and half hours until we land. I hope you can make the most of it, despite the turbulence."

In the following silence, Langdon did indeed brew himself a cup of coffee, despite the shaking of the jet around him. When he walked back through, Reid was still, and while it was obvious by his breathing that he was not asleep, to see him at rest was enough for Langdon at the moment. Warm coffee in his hands, he braced himself for a biting slew of criticism from Delphinus, who was never pleased to man the controls alone in unfavorable conditions. But this time, Langdon could bear it; he knew that he had done the right thing.

 **Wow. Wow! I've been getting so much support on this story! Thank you all so much for reading: every follow, favorite, and review absolutely makes my day. You are all so fantastic to me! I also really appreciate the feedback; you've been offering me genuine compliments and feedback, which is more than I could ever ask for. I really hope that you're all enjoying, and have a wonderful day!**


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